Being Human (Witcher, Yennefer/Geralt)

[Oolia]

I've been craving a Yennefer sickfic for a while now, so I figured I'd just write one myself and (hopefully) inspire other people to join in on the fun! As usual for me, this story is heavy in care-taking fluff and plot.

Yennefer catches a cold and Geralt is concerned. Full of denial, angst and "hmm." *Only Yennefer sneezes in this story.*

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PART 1

Geralt of Rivia pulled on the silk jabot tie wrapped around his neck, grimacing as he tried to loosen it. He never did like the feeling of celebratory attire—the way the garments sat on his body, stiff and tight. It was nothing like his usual leather gear, which moved with him like a second skin. And actually offered protection against everything that wanted to kill him.

Jaskier slapped Geralt’s hand. “Stop that.” The bard sighed. “See, you’ve made it come undone again. Can’t you at least pretend to act like a nobleman for once, instead of a—” he wiggled his fingers at Geralt, “—a begrimed, feral Witcher.” He sighed and busied himself fixing the tie.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “I took a bath for this,” he said, his gravelly voice managing an extra growl. “I’m not planning on sticking around very long anyway.” He took a step back, pushing Jaskier’s hand away. The stupid frilly tie would lay the way it would lay. He wasn’t here to make an impression.

They resumed their walk down the corridor of Lord Ferrand’s palace, their footsteps echoing on the polished floor. Chatter and music floated down from a large double door at the other end of the hallway.

“Remind me again why a Witcher has to attend a ball in order to kill a monster? Those two activities don’t exactly coexist harmoniously.”

“You mean like a Witcher and a suit?” Geralt said, stretching his neck. “I’m here to find out who cursed Lord Ferrand’s wife.”

“And how are you going to do that again?”

They reached the end of the corridor, standing in front of the ballroom doors.

“If you spent half as much time listening as you did talking, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself,” grunted Geralt. He pushed the doors opened, revealing a huge ballroom with vaulted ceilings. A good hundred noblemen milled about in their fancy garbs, laughing and drinking to the tune of several bards in the far corner.

Geralt grinded his teeth. He’d warned Lord Ferrand to reduce the number of guests so that any threat could be dealt with rapidly and effectively. But of course, Lords never listened. Especially not to Witchers.

“So where do we start?” asked Jaskier, his eyes bright as he rubbed his hands together.

“There’s no ‘we’ here. Stay out of the way if you want to keep your head attached to your neck tonight.”

Jaskier’s eyes grew wide with offense. “I meant about the food. Should we start with the grilled boar or the roasted pheasant?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Go.”

He watched as Jaskier sauntered over to the buffet, immediately latching on to another poor soul whose ear he would talk off over the next hour or two.

Geralt sighed and scanned the room, squinting. Rumors of an incoming attack had prompted Lord Ferrand to ask for Geralt’s presence. He believed that whomever was planning a coup was behind his wife’s curse as well. Someone clearly held a grudge against him. Why, Geralt didn’t know, but he had a suspicion that he would soon find out. He’d been doing this long enough to know there were always two sides to a coin. And both sides were usually tainted with blood.

Lord Ferrand sat with his entourage at the far end of the room. He was looking straight at Geralt, his deep-set eyes grim, his lips pale and thin. Geralt nodded, and Lord Ferrand looked away.

It wasn’t hard to guess that the man had done enough despicable things to raise a whole village against him. Lords were filthy weasels. Finding the culprit, especially in a room full of people, would be like searching for a nightwraith in broad daylight. All Geralt could do was sit back and watch until something suspicious happened.

He walked through the crowd, his eyes glowing yellow as he focused on his surroundings. The guards lined on either side of the room made him nervous. They needed the culprit alive if they wanted to cure Lord Ferrand’s wife. The mysterious spell had left her catatonic, her eyes as white as snow and her body rigid like stone. In order to reverse it, they needed to know who had done it, and how.

A group of people dancing in the center of the room briefly parted, and Geralt stopped abruptly. He thought he’d seen Yennefer sitting at a table behind them. But it must have been a mistake. Yennefer had no reasons to be in this wretched land, let alone attending Lord Ferrand’s ball.

Or did she?

He pushed his way through the dancers, his lips parting when he saw her again. This time there was no doubt.

She was here.

He hadn’t seen her since the dragon hunt, when she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to see him again. She was beautiful as always, her long dark hair curled around her face. Her gown was black, adorned with a complicated grey pattern. It contrasted with the colorful gowns worn by women around her.

A storm cloud in a field of flowers.

But something was off. Her gaze, usually piercing and rapt, was glazed over, fixed on a point in front of her. Her face was pale, her lips parted, her shoulders slightly hunched over. Geralt circled away from the dance floor, observing Yennefer from afar. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

What was she doing here?

He watched as she brought a gloved hand to her nose, pressing her knuckle underneath. She shut her eyes, as if in pain. After a brief moment, she shook her head and lowered her hand. Only then did her eyes come alive, as if she’d been in deep thought and had just remembered where she was.

Geralt wondered if she’d been using magic to project herself somewhere, perhaps to eavesdrop on a conversation. He glanced at Lord Ferrand a few feet away. The lord was leaning close to his advisor, speaking in his ear with a look of concern on his face.

Geralt looked back at Yennefer and pinched his lips together. Dread filled the space between the bones of his neck. Of course she would be involved in this mess. Who was she spying for, and why? What did she know that he didn’t?

He shook his head. Rich people and their mad antics. Couldn’t he just kill a damn monster in a swamp somewhere, get his coins and leave for once? But Lord Ferrand had promised him quite a large sum, and he needed that money. Badly.

He grabbed a mug of mead from a nearby table and took a swig, his eyes fixed on Yennefer. If he wanted his reward, first he’d need to know what she was planning.

As if she’d read his mind, Yennefer lifted her eyes, and their gazes crossed. Geralt nodded and tempted a smirk. She responded with an eye roll. It was all he needed to walk over to her table and sit across from her.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, placing his mug in front of him.

Yennefer looked away, seemingly bored with him already. “Not as fancy as that horrendous vest you’re wearing.”

Geralt had trouble hearing Yennefer over the sound of the band playing a lively tune nearby. He leaned in. “It’s Jaskier’s.”

“I can tell. It’s too small for you. You look like a sausage stuffed in a coin purse.”

“Hmm.”

Her voice sounded different. Tired, and lifeless, as if she hadn’t slept for days. He looked at her again, frowning. Her purple eyes looked washed out and watery. Had she been crying? No. Yennefer didn’t believe in crying.

Yennefer leaned in, closing the distance remaining between them. Their faces almost touched, their lips a hair’s breadth away. Geralt’s body tensed up. Everything suddenly ceased to exist saved for the two of them. The smell of her skin almost made him delirious, as memories of the nights he’d spent with her cradled in his arms flooded his brain.

“What do you want, Witcher,” she half-whispered, her cold eyes staring into his soul.

You, he almost said. He cleared his throat. “I want to know what you’re up to.”

“It’s none of your business.” She leaned back, breaking the spell. The world returned, loud and shrill, blinding.

“Can you at least tell me what curse you used on Lord Ferrand’s wife?”

She frowned. “Is that why you’re here?” She scoffed, then winced. A pause. “And you think I did it.” She almost looked hurt by it, a momentary lapse in her façade. Or was it just a trick of the mind, another way to manipulate Geralt? To make him think that she was innocent, so that he would unknowingly participate in her mischievous plans.

“I don’t have time to play games, Yen. Tell me how to save the woman and I’ll leave you alone.”

Her frown deepened. “I didn’t—” Suddenly, she lifted her hand and pressed a loose fist under her nose as she had done earlier. She took a few quivering breaths, her eyes squinting shut as she sneezed to the side. “Hhh—IiiSHhhhuu.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Bless.”

Yennefer was still hunched to the side, her hair covering most of her face, her hand still pressed to her nose. A little gasp escaped her lips, and she pitched forward again. “Iiih—SSHhhhuuu!”

Geralt didn’t say anything. He realized he’d never heard her sneeze before.

Yennefer straightened up, trying to compose herself. She shoved her hair out of her face and sniffled, a hint of blush on her cheeks. A dark cloud passed over her eyes, probably annoyance at losing control in front of Geralt. The moment only lasted a split second before she blinked it away, settling back into her ivory tower.

“As I was saying, I didn’t—”

This time, it wasn’t her nose that interrupted her, but the sound of the doors being violently flung open, and blood-curdling screams erupting from the crowd.

Geralt jumped on his feet and spun around to face the commotion. Guests were running away from the door, terror painted on their faces. It didn’t take long to understand why.

“A frightener,” said Yennefer behind him.

Geralt recognized it instantly, though he’d never seen one this big. The giant praying mantis towered over everyone, wreaking havoc in the ballroom. It darted left and right, flinging people and tables in its path. Its spindly legs clicked on the floor in a bone-chilling cacophony.

Only a mage could conjure such a horrifying monster.

Geralt unsheathed his sword, turning to Yennefer. “What have you done?”

She looked back at Geralt, fear in her eyes. “I didn’t. This beast isn’t mine.” Her face was even paler than before.

“Get everyone to safety,” Geralt shouted at Yennefer before running towards the monster. He gestured wildly, trying to get the insect’s attention. Behind him, an explosion ripped through the air, shaking the ground under his feet. He glanced back in time to see Yennefer guiding people towards the hole she’d blasted in the back wall.

“Hey!” Geralt shouted at the monster. “Come here, you sack of shit.”

The frightener turned its twitchy head towards Geralt. The Witcher grimaced. Insect-like monsters made his skin crawl.

“Come on,” Geralt growled, readying his sword. This was going to be a tough fight. Frighteners were notoriously difficult to kill because of their thick exoskeleton. Blacksmiths had been trying for years to recreate its carapace-like texture to make better armor, but nothing ever came close to it.

Geralt tried to remember what he’d learned from the bestiary. The frightener’s neck was the easiest location to chop off, but with the beast so tall, it wouldn’t be easily accessible. There was something else. A weakness. What was it?

The monster raised its two razor-blade forelegs in the air and rushed towards Geralt. The damn thing was faster than the Witcher had anticipated, its movements quick and unpredictable. Geralt parried and dodged the first few strikes of the frightener’s forelegs, trying to create a window for an attack. But the monster was tireless, swiping and flailing, forcing Geralt back.

As he took another step backward to absorb the shock of an attack, the Witcher stumbled on a chair lying on the ground. He fell flat on his back, losing his sword from the impact.

The frightener was instantly upon him. Geralt tried to crawl back, but the monster’s legs gathered around him like a prison. Just as it was about to swipe down and impale Geralt, Yennefer let out a pained scream. The frightener was violently pushed back, as if an intense wind had swept him up.

Geralt got back on his feet. “Thanks.”

Yennefer was on the ground, panting and shaking. “Focus on getting rid of that thing.” She stood shakily, extending her arms on either side of her body, pure rage in her eyes. Flames sprouted from her hands.

The monster was on its back, struggling to right itself. Geralt grabbed his sword and dove towards its belly, but his weapon bounced as if the monster were made of rock. By the time Geralt had moved closer to its neck, the frightener was back on its feet, and the parrying resumed.

Geralt lead the monster in a circle to give Yennefer’s a straight shot to its back. Yennefer nodded, still breathing heavily and unsteady on her feet. Geralt glanced back and forth at her as he fought, worried that she might collapse at any moment.

“Yennefer!” he yelled.

“I got it,” she said, joining her hands together to form a fireball. But she paused, wiggling her nose. She tried to rub it on her shoulder, giving her head a slight shake.

Geralt knew what was coming. “Hold it in!”

“I ca—can’t—” She gasped, then pitched forward, her fireball launching as she sneezed. “IhhSSSHhhuuuu!”

Geralt’s eyes widened. He barely had time to react, ducking at the last second. The fireball flew mere inches from his face, the smell of it lingering in the air, hot and acrid.

Geralt glanced back at Yennefer. She was collapsed on the ground, in the throws of a sneezing fit. “IiihhSSHhuuu! Hhh… IIiihSShhh! IiihSSHhhhuuu!”

Meanwhile, the frightener was still swiping at Geralt, its blades hissing through the air, clanging against the sword. Geralt could feel his arms getting stiff and heavy. He wouldn’t be able to hold on for long.

What was the damn thing’s weakness? Water? Sunlight?

Suddenly, Geralt noticed Jaskier running in from the gaping hole in the wall, and he remembered.

“Jaskier!” he shouted. “The fiddle!”

Jaskier looked around, puzzled. He located the instrument amidst the rubble and grabbed it, then ran towards Geralt. “Shall I throw it at the beast?” he said, a shrill of panic to his voice.

“No, you idiot! Play it! Play the highest pitch you can.”

Jaskier obliged, slowly drawing the bow on the thinnest string. As soon as the high-pitch note sounded, the frightener froze in place, screeching.

“Faster!” yelled Geralt.

The bard nodded, eyes wide. He moved the bow up and down in quick successions against the strings, producing an unbearably dissonant tune similar to the shrieking lament of a wraith. The frightener shriveled down, its forelegs frantically rubbing its head.

Geralt wasted no time. He ran towards the beast, using a half-collapsed table to launch himself in the air. As he fell back towards the ground, he brought down his sword on the fragile neck of the monster, slashing its head off.

The frightener’s body crumpled to the ground, its head rolling to the Witcher’s feet.

Silence fell in the ballroom. But not for long.

“IhhSSShhuu!”

Geralt turned to Yennefer. She was struggling to get up, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

Geralt walked up to her and offered a hand. “You’re ill.”

Yennefer looked up at him, daggers in her watery eyes. Her nose was red, her hair plastered on her face from sweat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Witcher.” She ignored his hand, managing to stand up on her own, albeit a bit shakily.

“You’re pale, and exhausted.”

“I didn’t know you became a hea—healer…” Her nose scrunched up as she brought her hands over her nose once again. “IihhhSSHhhuuu!”

“And you’re sneezing.”

Yennefer sniffled, blinking away a few post-sneeze tears. She gestured at the rubble around them, her head held high. “Dust.”

“Hmm.” Dust had never bothered her before.

“I don’t mean to interrupt this heartwarming reunion,” said Jaskier as he approached them, fiddle still in hand, “but what do we do with this?” He pointed at the frightener. “Are more of these things coming?”

Geralt shook his head. “Doubtful. Only a mage can conjure frighteners, and they rarely do.” He turned to Yennefer. “If you didn’t do it, then who?”

“Witcher!” a voice called out behind them.

Two guards walked in through the ballroom doors, staring at the frightener’s corpse as they walked around it as if it were about to reanimate. They were carrying a man tied up in ropes. A peasant, by the looks of it.

“We caught this man running away from the palace shortly before the frightener attacked,” said one of the guards as he dropped the peasant to the ground. “He’s already confessed everything.”

Geralt looked down at the man, who was on his knees, sobbing.

“I’ll do it again if I have to.” The man looked around, frenzied. “Is he dead? Did the monster kill him?”

Geralt frowned. “Who?”

“Lord Ferrand. He killed my kids, and then my wife when she tried to save them.” He wailed. “All because my youngest took a loaf of bread from his provision cart. She didn’t know any better. She was five.”

“Of course he did,” whispered Geralt, briefly closing his eyes. And they said Witchers had no heart. “Did you have his wife cursed, too?”

The man nodded, blubbering in his tears. “He deserved it. All of it.”

“Innocent bystanders didn’t deserve it,” said Geralt, his voice hard. “Tell me who is the mage behind all of this.”

“Vrakius of Uledor.”

Vrakius. Geralt had heard of him. A greedy bastard that lived in opulence on the outskirts of the region. His castle was a day’s travel away.

Geralt turned to Jaskier. “We’re leaving at dawn.”

Yennefer took a step forward. “I’m coming with you.”

 

Edited February 5, 2020 by Oolia

[NickG1998]

Please continue this amazing story and keep up the great work 

[Garnet]

Aaaa, I had to give this a quick read on mobile while at work but I am definitely coming back for a more in-depth review later. I’ve been having fun horning our on The Witcher with fetish folks over on tumblr but I’ve yet to see anyone attempt Yennefer and just... whoof. You do an excellent job, very hot. Very good writing. Also, always a bit sucker for the “loss of powers/magical control” when tied to sneezing prompt so that stray fireball was... very nice. Thank you for your services ❤️

[Oolia]

7 hours ago, Garblin said:

Aaaa, I had to give this a quick read on mobile while at work but I am definitely coming back for a more in-depth review later. I’ve been having fun horning our on The Witcher with fetish folks over on tumblr but I’ve yet to see anyone attempt Yennefer and just... whoof. You do an excellent job, very hot. Very good writing. Also, always a bit sucker for the “loss of powers/magical control” when tied to sneezing prompt so that stray fireball was... very nice. Thank you for your services ❤️

Thank you so much! Any compliment about writing is high praise coming from you! I'm a huge fan of your writing ❤️ I've actually created a Tumblr account yesterday because I've heard that's where all the Witcher fics reside 😂 Still getting the hang of it, but I'll be posting this story on it eventually. Do people usually tag the show and the names of the characters, or is that a big no-no so that vanillas don't find it?

8 hours ago, NickG1998 said:

Please continue this amazing story and keep up the great work 

Thank you! Working on part II as we speak 😊

[sprinkles287]

Yay!  I'm happy to hear there will be another part.  I love the Witcher series.  And you really did nail the characters wonderfully.

[Garnet]

6 hours ago, Oolia said:

Thank you so much! Any compliment about writing is high praise coming from you! I'm a huge fan of your writing ❤️ I've actually created a Tumblr account yesterday because I've heard that's where all the Witcher fics reside 😂 Still getting the hang of it, but I'll be posting this story on it eventually. Do people usually tag the show and the names of the characters, or is that a big no-no so that vanillas don't find it?

Thank you! Working on part II as we speak 😊

Generally a big no-no for exactly that reason, haha. Tagging with things like #sneeze fetish or whatnot while avoiding the main vanilla fandom tags is generally considered fine though. Tumblr can be a bit cryptic like that for making initial contact with other fetish folk, it’s not the best platform admittedly but does seem to be where a lot of the community has gone.

I’ll shoot you a PM for mine if you like! And in the meantime, definitely looking forward to the second part >:3

[Blah!?]

I suppose I should preface this by saying I've still only played The Witcher 3 and I have yet to watch the show. Regardless, this was a lot of fun, and I'm really interested to see where it goes in future installments. I think you've hit a great balance of adventure, humor and sneezing all at once.

On 2/5/2020 at 2:32 AM, Oolia said:

He watched as she brought a gloved hand to her nose, pressing her knuckle underneath. She shut her eyes, as if in pain. After a brief moment, she shook her head and lowered her hand. Only then did her eyes come alive, as if she’d been in deep thought and had just remembered where she was.

This little description in particular really stuck out to me. Someone zoning out a bit because of a cold is a very cute, underappreciated detail, and this was a neat way to incorporate that. Having her blame her sneezing on dust felt very cute and in-character too.

And I can only imagine Yen's cold will get them into even more trouble as they go to confront this sorcerer. Can't wait to see it!

[Oolia]

22 minutes ago, Blah!? said:

I suppose I should preface this by saying I've still only played The Witcher 3 and I have yet to watch the show. Regardless, this was a lot of fun, and I'm really interested to see where it goes in future installments. I think you've hit a great balance of adventure, humor and sneezing all at once.

This little description in particular really stuck out to me. Someone zoning out a bit because of a cold is a very cute, underappreciated detail, and this was a neat way to incorporate that. Having her blame her sneezing on dust felt very cute and in-character too.

And I can only imagine Yen's cold will get them into even more trouble as they go to confront this sorcerer. Can't wait to see it!

Thank you so much! 😊 I do loooove the care-taker noticing small details like the one you quoted. There's something so endearing about them paying attention enough to take note, and then put all of these together eventually to realize that the person is actually sick. A weird trope of mine 😂

[NoV]

Haven't got round to watching the show yet, but damn if you don't write some delicious sneeziness from Yennefer  

On 2/5/2020 at 8:32 AM, Oolia said:

She was collapsed on the ground, in the throws of a sneezing fit. “IiihhSSHhuuu! Hhh… IIiihSShhh! IiihSSHhhhuuu!”

[Oolia]

10 minutes ago, NoV said:

Haven't got round to watching the show yet, but damn if you don't write some delicious sneeziness from Yennefer  

Thank you so much! And thank you for making me realize I've misspelled "throes" 😂 Gonna fix this right up...

EDIT: Nvm I can no longer edit 😭

Edited February 6, 2020 by Oolia

[lifelove1]

 

8 hours ago, Oolia said:

8 hours ago, Blah!? said:

I suppose I should preface this by saying I've still only played The Witcher 3 and I have yet to watch the show. Regardless, this was a lot of fun, and I'm really interested to see where it goes in future installments. I think you've hit a great balance of adventure, humor and sneezing all at once.

This little description in particular really stuck out to me. Someone zoning out a bit because of a cold is a very cute, underappreciated detail, and this was a neat way to incorporate that. Having her blame her sneezing on dust felt very cute and in-character too.

And I can only imagine Yen's cold will get them into even more trouble as they go to confront this sorcerer. Can't wait to see it!

Thank you so much! 😊 I do loooove the care-taker noticing small details like the one you quoted. There's something so endearing about them paying attention enough to take note, and then put all of these together eventually to realize that the person is actually sick. A weird trope of mine 😂

This was one of my favorite parts (and fetishy tropes) too, for exactly the same reason!! 

This fic is amazing - your characterizations (and especially Geralt's sleuthing) are so perfect. I think you really nailed their interactions. Can't wait for more! The world definitely needs more Yennefer fics and this is pretty great inspiration... :)

[lsbn]

This is awesome!!!!!!!!!! Thanks for writing this!!!!!!!!!!!

[Oolia]

On 2/6/2020 at 7:19 PM, lifelove1 said:

This fic is amazing - your characterizations (and especially Geralt's sleuthing) are so perfect. I think you really nailed their interactions. Can't wait for more! The world definitely needs more Yennefer fics and this is pretty great inspiration... :)

 

On 2/9/2020 at 4:23 PM, lsbn said:

This is awesome!!!!!!!!!! Thanks for writing this!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you guys so much! It makes me so happy to know that people enjoy what I write 😊

And now here's the next part!

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PART II

Early the next day, Geralt was busy saddling Roach when Jaskier stumbled out of the inn. The bard looked like he’d just fallen out of bed, his hair sticking up like a wild shrub after a wind storm.

“Can’t we just sleep for another hour or two?” Jaskier whined, wiping dried up drool on his cheek.

Geralt adjusted the stirrups on his saddle. “No.”

Dawn had already come and gone, though with somber clouds swirling in the sky and thick fog rising from the ground, the morning seemed stuck in that fleeting moment between night and day. Sure, Geralt could have used a few more hours of sleep, but he’d had enough of Lord Ferrand and this wretched town. The sooner he’d find a cure for the curse, the better. It was time to move on and find contracts that required little to no interactions with humans.

He patted Roach on the rump and took a deep breath through his nose. There was a promise of rain in the air, and a sharpness that only came with cold weather. The leaves in the trees had turned crimson and orange many moons ago, and had already begun their gentle fall to the ground. It was only a matter of time before snow would come.

Geralt rearranged the wolf fur cloak on his shoulders. Hopefully Yennefer had brought along a winter robe. Given her state the night before, she would need to keep as warm as possible.

He glanced back towards the inn. She should have been here already.

“Afraid she won’t show up?” asked Jaskier with a commiserating smirk. “They say the most magnificent women are the cruelest. Actually, I wrote a song about it!” He expertly swung the lute hanging from his back to his chest and cleared his throat. “Forgive my morning voice.”

“Don’t,” said Geralt.

Jaskier ignored the warning and started singing. “The fairer sex, they often call it, but her love’s as unfair as a crook. It steals all my reason, commits every treason of logic, with naught but a look—”

“Stop.”

“The best part is coming up,” said Jaskier, still plucking the strings of his instrument. “Let me skip right to it. But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet—”

Geralt took a menacing step towards the bard. “Sing one more note and I’ll make you swallow your stupid banjo.”

Jaskier winced, cradling his lute protectively. “Not a fan of this one. That’s fine. But for your education, this is not a banjo. It’s a lute.” He walked a few paces away, then muttered, “I gather they don’t teach music in Witcher school. Or decorum, for that matter.”

A silhouette appeared in the distance, accompanied by the clopping sounds of hooves on the packed dirt. Geralt squinted his golden eyes to see through the fog. It was Yennefer, leading two horses by their bridle, one as black as night and the other golden with a white mane.

“You’re late,” said Geralt, returning his attention to tightening Roach’s saddle.

“I’m late because I procured a horse for your bard. The least you could do is show some gratitude.”

Geralt glanced at her, frowning. There was definite congestion in her voice, a roughness that now matched her pained soul. As she got closer, he noticed that the delicate skin at the edge of her nose was red and chapped, as if she’d spent the night holding a handkerchief to it.

And of course, the cloak she wore was more suited for summer—made of a thin black fabric with a hood, but no fur.

“Well I, for one, thank you for your thoughtful gesture,” said Jaskier as he walked up to the black horse.

Yennefer cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

Jaskier hesitated, looking at the two horses, then at Yennefer, and back at the black horse. “Oh. I see, I—” He walked around Yennefer and took the Palomino horse from her.

The wind picked up and a breeze swirled in the fog. Yennefer tightened her cloak around her chest, fighting off a shiver. She turned to mount her horse, but stopped, her hands gripping the saddle. Her nose twitched, and her brows furrowed. She sniffed, as if trying to tame a deep tickle, but quickly bobbed forward as the sneeze fought back. “IhhhSSHHHhuu!”

Geralt watched Yennefer gently press a finger under her sore nose, wondering if she’d still try to pass this off as allergies. Sighing, her rummaged through his saddlebags and fetched two vials filled with a shimmering green liquid. He handed them to Yennefer without a word.

Yennefer sniffled wetly and turned her nose up at the potions. “I don’t need these.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed. He was used to Yennefer’s stubbornness, but this was getting ridiculous. “Yen, you’re obviously sick, quit being such a—” He stopped himself, fighting the anger rising in his chest. Yennefer’s eyes had turned a stormy purple, staring him down. “I just—" His voice grew gentler, his concern deepening the wrinkles on his forehead. “We have a long road ahead. Just take them.”

“I don’t need you to treat me like a child,” Yennefer said, spacing out each word as if talking to a simpleton. “I can take—Hhh!” Her eyes closed and she turned away from Geralt, burying her nose in her cloak. “IhhSSSHhhh! I can take care of myself.” She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head in an irritated gesture. “How many times do I have to tell you?” Ignoring the vials Geralt still held out to her, she put her foot in the stirrup and mounted her horse. Without another word, she kicked her horse into a trot, disappearing into the fog.

“Bless,” muttered Geralt, lowering his hand in defeat. He pocketed the vials and looked at Jaskier, who simply shrugged. “Let’s go.”

 

After catching up with Yennefer, Geralt and Jaskier rode behind her for a while, giving her space. But Geralt still had to find out what she’d been doing at Lord Ferrand’s ball, and what she wanted with Vrakius. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, and with Yennefer, anything was possible.

The night before, she’d refused to answer any of his questions, only agreeing to a time and place of departure. As she’d left, all Geralt could think of was the last time he’d watched her go, convinced that he would never see her again.

But here she was.

And yet Geralt knew that it was only temporary. She had no intentions of staying in his life—it was clear by how guarded she acted around him. She’d built up all the walls he’d taken down when they’d first met, brick by brick. There was now a fortress around her, stronger than any king’s or queen’s Geralt had ever met.

He pressed Roach forward, falling into step next to Yennefer.

“Are you ready to tell me what you’re up to?” said Geralt.

No answer. Yennefer kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, as if he didn’t even exist.

“If you want my help, you’ll have to tell me what you’re after. I don’t even know if you want Vrakius dead or alive.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Chances are you’ll be the one who needs my help. How do you plan on infiltrating his palace? Brute force?” She scoffed, which seemed to irritate her throat. She let out a small, pitiful cough that tugged at Geralt’s heart.

“You know I never fight if I don’t have to.” Geralt repositioned himself on the saddle. “But you’re right. I’m going to need your help. I just want us to be on the same page before we go in.”

Yennefer lowered her eyes. “Fine.” A gust of wind blew through her cloak. She shivered, closing it over her chest and holding it with her hand. “There are rumors of a mage who may possess information that I’m after. And the curse affecting Lord Ferrand’s wife is apparently one he is very fond of. So I invited myself to the ball to speak to Lord Ferrand about it.” She glanced sideways at Geralt. “Turns out it wasn’t necessary.”

Geralt smirked. “And now you need me to guide you to him.”

“I could figure it out by myself, but why waste precious time when there’s already a Witcher on the case?”

“As long as you don’t invoke the Law of Surprise on me,” Geralt quipped, straight faced.

Yennefer’s expression hardened. She whipped her head towards him, her eyes ablaze. “You have some nerve making light of this, Geralt. After all that’s happened.” She whipped the reins tucked in her hand, causing her horse to lurch forward.

“Shit.” When would he learn to stop talking so much around her? It never ended well.

“That is one glorious example of putting one’s foot into one’s mouth,” said Jaskier as he moved forward to ride alongside of Geralt.

“Hmm.” Geralt kept his eyes on Yennefer, who was back to a normal pace some feet ahead, keeping her distance.

“She truly does have a mystical hold on you, doesn’t she?” Jaskier said, pensive. “Here I thought I would be singing the heroic adventures of the famed White Wolf, but the real story is a tragic tale of unattainable love and loss.”

“Jaskier—”

Geralt was interrupted by a sneeze from Yennefer. Both men snapped their heads towards the sound, and watched in silence as the mage struggled with a desperate fit. Her head bobbed forward, her shoulders rising in her cloak. “IhhSSHHhhuu!”

Her hood fell down from the force of the sneeze, her hair blowing in the wind as it was set free. She bent to the side and fished out a handkerchief tucked in the cuff of her riding boot. She brought it out just in time for the next sneezes. “IHH—SSHhhh! IHSSSHhhuu!”

Geralt could only see the back of Yennefer, but her whole body crumpled forward with each sneeze, almost getting lost in the black fabric billowing around her. “IhhSSHhhhuu!”

“Hhh—Hhh!—” The last one seemed to get stuck. Her head tipped up towards the gloomy skies, the whole of her frozen on her horse for a moment. Geralt caught himself holding his breath, as if it would help coax the sneeze out and give Yennefer the release she desperately needed. Finally, after one last gasp, she folded onto her lap. “IHH-TSSHHHHUUuu!”

“Poor thing,” said Jaskier after a moment. “She sounds dreadful.”

Geralt nodded. “Hmm.”

“She shouldn’t be out on such a dreary day.”

Geralt looked up. The clouds had darkened even more since they’d left. It was only a matter of time before it would start raining. They would cross several towns on their route, perhaps it would be best to stop at the next inn and wait out the rain. But chances are Yennefer would refuse.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” said Jaskier. “If she’s such a powerful mage, why doesn’t she cast a healing spell on herself?”

“I don’t know.” Geralt had wondered the same thing. He wasn’t exactly sure how mages' magic worked. Perhaps Yennefer was too sick to perform any spells. But last night, she’d been able to destroy a wall and launch fireballs, even though it had clearly wiped her out.

“She won’t even take my potions,” said Geralt. If she truly couldn’t cure herself, why not take some herbal remedies? Pride? Ego? Stubbornness? Even that didn’t make sense. Yennefer hated being weak. If there were a way to nip this cold in the bud, she would have done it by now.

Or maybe Geralt just didn’t know her as well as he thought.

“Maybe it’s because you’re the one offering,” said Jaskier. “Hand me the potions.”

Geralt chuckled. “Has no one ever told you not to mess with a dragon?”

“No offense, Geralt, but sometimes you come across as the dragon yourself. Charm is the only weapon I have. Let me at least wield it when the opportunity arises.”

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Geralt grabbed the vials from the pocket of his cloak and tossed them towards Jaskier, who caught them with expert hands.

He glanced at Geralt, pride illuminating his face. “Have I told you I’m also an excellent juggler?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you show Yennefer? I’m sure she’ll be impressed.”

Jaskier’s expression deflated. “You’re no fun.” He nudged his horse forward to reach Yennefer.

Geralt watched the bard ride alongside Yennefer for a bit, talking with her—or more evidently at her. Her couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, but he could easily imagine the lofty speech Jaskier was making about health and mages and magic. Yennefer didn’t seem to be interested, her hood-covered head remaining fixed forward. Finally, Jaskier offered her the vials. It seemed to garner a response from the mage, because Jaskier visibly scrunched down and retracted his offer.

Geralt smirked as Jaskier fell back next to him. “So?”

Jaskier cleared his throat, his face a shade of red one would only see in the hot season. “She’s not interested.”

Geralt chuckled. “How bad was it?”

“Let’s just say that she got very graphic about what she would do to my balls if I were to mention her health again.” He squirmed on his saddle, visibly shaken. “You two definitely deserve each other.”

 

 

They rode for a few hours to the tune of Jaskier practicing new songs. Yennefer remained ahead of the pack, seemingly content to be left alone. Geralt preferred it that way, too. It allowed him to keep an eye on her.

As the day progressed, he noticed her condition deteriorate slightly. She was sneezing so often that she’d given up on keeping her hood over her head. The handkerchief she’d fetched from her boot seemed permanently attached to her nose, and her whole body sometimes shivered from a chill that she couldn’t fight off.

It was bothering Geralt. They’d been riding in the forest for a while now, where the air was more humid and colder. And of course, it was about to start raining. Geralt had noticed a few drops fall on Roach’s mane. The sky was still covered in clouds with no relief in sight. They wouldn’t be able to escape the torrent.

He pushed Roach into a trot and reached Yennefer. Up close, she looked even more under the weather than he thought. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes watering. When she noticed him approaching, she lowered her handkerchief and sniffled.

“We should stop and eat,” said Geralt, trying a different approach.

“I’m not hungry.”

Geralt’s brows furrowed. She was so congested that he could hardly recognize her voice. “It’s about to rain anyway. We’ll take shelter and wait for it to pass.”

Yennefer shook her head. “I don’t have time to dilly-dally with a Witcher and a bard in the middle of a bloody forest. I’m due back at the palace in three days. You can do as you wish, but I’m not stopping.”

“You don’t even know where Vrakius lives.”

“I’ll find my way.” She let out a small gasp, her nose scrunching up. Bringing the handkerchief up to her face, she folded down on her lap with an exhausted sneeze. “HHh—IHSSHhhuuu.”

Geralt sighed and clenched his jaw. “Yen…”

She looked at him, establishing eye contact for the first time in a while that day. “Geralt, I’m fine,” she snapped. “I swear, you both baby me as if I were an infant.” She brought the handkerchief back towards her nose as her nostrils flared, her mouth relaxed. “IHHSSHhhuu.”

“Bless.”

Geralt noticed that her handkerchief was in poor condition, damp and crumpled. She clearly hadn’t brought any more, or maybe had used them all the night before. He dug his hand into his bag and pulled out one of his own handkerchiefs.

“Here,” he said, handing it out to Yennefer without making a fuss.

Yennefer eyed the handkerchief with a mix of reticence and longing, confirming that her current one felt horrible on her nose. Finally, after a brief moment, she took it. She didn’t say anything for a while, just folded it on her lap.

“Thank you,” she finally said.

Geralt nodded. It was a small victory. Dealing with a sick Yennefer felt like taming a wild animal. With a little bit of patience, maybe he’d eventually convince her to take a rest.

Suddenly, the light drizzle that Geralt had worried about a few moments ago turned into a proper shower. Yennefer let out a whimper, lifting her hood back on her head—however long that would last. Geralt could feel the rain dripping on his face and down his neck, cold and ruthless. It would only be a matter of time before Yennefer’s summer cloak would be soaked.

He looked over at Yennefer in time to see rain drops trickling down her cheeks, following the sides of her nose and around the edge of her nostrils. It seemed to set off a tickle, because she quickly held the new handkerchief to her nose, as if attacked by an irresistible prickle. Her eyes shut tightly. “IhhSSHhuuu! Hhh… IHhSSHhhh—TTSshhhuu!” Her sneezes echoed over the rushing sound of the rain pounding on the leaves and dirt around them. She shivered, keeping the handkerchief to her nose as more sneezes built up in her sinuses. “IIH… TSSHhuuu—TSSHhhuu! Bloody hell… IhhSSHhuuu! TTSshhuu!”

Fuck patience, thought Geralt. In one fell swoop, he pulled his cloak off of his shoulders—still warm from his own body—and swung it over Yennefer’s shoulders. Before she could react, he nudged Roach into a trot and took the lead, far enough away from Yennefer that she couldn’t protest.

He waited a few minutes before chancing a glance back through the rain.

Yennefer was buried in Geralt’s oversized cloak, her head lost in the fur hood. Only her red nose and her lower face peeked out from the opening. She held the cloak tight against her chest, the handkerchief still clutched in her hand.

Geralt smiled. He could feel the rain seep into his clothes, uncomfortably cold. But he didn’t care.

At least Yennefer would be warm.

[NickG1998]

I love this story keep up the amazing work 

[Beatris]

Pure masterpiece. Truly amazing, that's all I can say. Thank youuu

[lsbn]

Wow, this is so cute 😍 Please keep going!

[ThatSneezyGirl]

This is amazing!! Your writing is absolutely incredible. Hoping for more soon 🤩

[Rika]

I'm always late.  But this was lovely!  I hope you eventually decide to write more! ❤️

[Care]

They are so cute. I really hope you will write more

[Dgrayman]

This was so good. I'd love to see it come back.